


Ten Years After

by lifeaftermeteor



Series: Life After Meteor [13]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: BROTPs abound, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Endless Waltz, Post-Series, Preventers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor/pseuds/lifeaftermeteor
Summary: Continuing a tradition Duo started in AC 200, the pilots and Hilde converge on NYC to crash with Wufei and Heero as they host this year's reunion.  Relena Darlian makes an entrance as an honorary member of the group and hits it off particularly well with Wufei.  Duo and Heero contemplate The Experiment and where to take their relationship from here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 13 of the [Life After Meteor](http://archiveofourown.org/series/391015) series, which trails the Gundam Pilots (and others) through the years post-war. Welcome comments/feedback.
> 
> Also kindest thanks to [tumbledrylemur](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbledrylemur/) for the beta reading. Couldn’t have done it without you! <3

**New York, New York  
** **205 December 20**

Duo arrived at the apartment close to 20:00, breezing into the apartment shortly after Heero and Wufei themselves had gotten home.  Heero greeted him at the door, his jacket abandoned and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  They embraced briefly at the door and Heero could feel the cold radiating off the other man; the short walk from the subway station apparently sufficient time for the winter air to seep into the other man’s skin. 

“You look like you just left the office,” Duo observed, giving him a once over as he kicked off his shoes in the entrance and followed Heero into the main living area.

“We did,” came the reply, in unison.  Leaning back on the couch armrest, Heero added, “Our coworkers decided today was the last possible window to do any business before everyone leaves town.  Wufei is heading back, actually.  He refused to order take out from the office.” 

“Because eating at your desk is the definition of detestable,” came the reply from the kitchen. 

“Oh, what’s this bullshit?  What do you mean you’re ‘going back?’” Duo asked, sounding utterly appalled his eyes searching out the apartment’s second occupant who had just appeared out of the kitchen, a hastily brewed cup of coffee in hand. 

Wufei threw back the last of the mug’s contents and explained, “There’s a vid conference at ten.  And a brief that precedes it.  Both of which I have to be at.” 

Duo winced and shook his head.  “Sucks, man.” 

Heero watched the two exchange quick words of apology and reassurance.  He’d seen Wufei’s schedule while they were still at the office and suspected the man wouldn’t finally escape his duties until well after midnight.  It was become a more common occurrence than he thought either of them had anticipated. 

Duo followed Wufei back to the front door and Heero heard him threatening to give the Branch Director a piece of his mind if Wufei didn’t get downtime over the next two weeks.  For a moment, the tension that had followed them back from work evaporated and Heero heard Wufei laugh at the threat.  But then – with a word of goodbye – he disappeared out the door, leaving Heero and Duo to their own devices. 

In the silence that followed Wufei’s departure, Heero watched Duo fidget near the entryway, apparently weighing whether to keep his distance.  It was the first time they’d been alone together since that hurried kiss in the airport. 

Seeking to defuse the sudden tension, Heero asked, “Hungry?” 

He watched the anxiety evaporate as Duo grinned and sighed, “Starving.” 

“Order in or do you want to go out somewhere?” 

Duo considered this a moment before replying, “Out.  I’ve been trapped in a plane so long my knees hurt, which is a feat—” he gestured widely at himself, acknowledging his slight stature, [1] “—so I’m up for a change of scenery if you are.” 

Heero nodded and stood, already heading toward his room.  “I know a place.  Let me change and we’ll go.” 

Heero led Duo across town and eventually down a side street lined with neon signs above and chalk easels below advertising nightly specials and fare that spanned the Earth Sphere.  Turning into one building, they walked up a flight of stairs and into a Korean restaurant.  Picnic tables and plastic chairs were packed into the small space, while flags and banners boasting colonial colors [2] ran the length of the ceiling to disguise the industrial infrastructure overhead.  Two of the waitstaff saw them enter and one of them, who Heero knew to be the owner’s daughter, gave him a wide grin gestured to an empty table.  She then disappeared into a back room. 

No sooner had they sat down than the owner himself burst through the kitchen door and into the dining area, the door swinging violently in his wake.  Kim Chung-Hee stood barely as tall as Heero himself, but made up for his short stature with a wild abandon rarely seen in men his age.  His hair was graying at the temples, his waistline was growing with age, and he had the tendency to welcome wayward colonials with open arms.  Heero knew—he was one such wayward colonial. 

“Heero!” the man exclaimed, making short work of the distance that separated them and promptly embracing the younger man in a bone-crushing hug.  Pulling away, he bombarded him with a flurry of Korean.  _“It’s been too long, boy—so good to see you.  You look well.  How’s Wufei?  Who is this?  Is he a friend or a ‘friend?’”_

 Heero opted to pick one of the multitude of questions to answer, pointedly ignoring the insinuation of the last.  He gestured to Duo—who was watching the happenings with growing amusement—and answered in English, “Chung-Hee, this is Duo.” 

The older man turned his attention on the newcomer and shook his hand emphatically.  “Heero’s friends are my friends.  Welcome, welcome!”  And then clasped Heero by the shoulders again and held him close to his side as if he was presenting his own son to a possible suitor.  The thought made Heero flush.  “Good man,” Chung-Hee asserted.  “Very good man.” 

Duo’s eyes danced between them, an honest smile gracing his lips.  “I know,” he assured the owner. 

Heero felt his cheeks burn and grimaced even as another flurry of affection was thrust upon him.  When Chung-Hee finally disengaged and disappeared back into the kitchen, Heero collapsed down into his seat and found he was not quite able to meet Duo’s steady gaze. 

“So…despite being friends with Seo-yeon and all, I don’t actually know any Korean,” Duo told him, his tone light.  “What was that all about?” 

“I know him.” 

“I gathered,” Duo said, sounding amused. 

Heero collected his thoughts, his eyes drifting towards the kitchen.  “Chung-Hee is from L1. [3] They moved down here post-conflict once transit routes opened up.  He and his family got wrapped up into a frame job when he refused to pay protection money to the mob.  Wufei and I – and the legal team – got him out of it.” 

Duo looked as if he was about to ask after the circumstances but was brought up short when their waiter swung into earshot.  They ordered quickly and sat back to wait.  Still reeling from the reunion with the restaurant’s owner, Heero struggled to come up with something to discuss.  Luckily, Duo saved him.  “So, other than saving colonial immigrants from Earth’s judicial system…how’s work?” 

“Work’s fine,” Heero answered.  “Busier now that Wufei is officially off the team.” 

“How’s he doing with the new job?” 

Heero shrugged.  “He’s stressed.” 

“It’s Wufei.  He’s always stressed.” 

Heero had to concede that point—it seemed to him that Wufei’s default setting was ‘high-strung.’  He had been surprised when the promotion was announced and at the time was unconvinced Wufei had in fact wanted the job.  But after three months, his roommate seemed to be thriving on the work and responsibility…even if it did mean late nights at the office.  “There’s something to be said for knowing your leadership trusts you not to blow up the eastern seaboard while they go skiing out west.” 

Duo laughed.  “Is that where your Branch Chief is?  Leaving Wufei to serve as first runner-up, huh?”  He sighed when Heero nodded in affirmative.  “Is he going to get any time off?” 

“He will, yes,” Heero assured.  “He knows he’s technically hosting, not me.  But he might be in and out depending on what’s happening at the office.” 

“Sometimes I worry he’s going to burn himself out.  Him and Quat,” Duo confided, leaning forward on the table with his arms crossed underneath him.  “They’re rather bad at self-regulating.” 

Heero considered this for a moment and then offered, “Well…that’s why everyone is coming, isn’t it?  To reset before the new year enters in force?” 

Duo met his eyes and grinned.  “This is a vacation.  You _will_ have fun, dammit.” 

Heero chuckled but before he could reply, their waiter returned with several banchan and the dishes they ordered.  Meanwhile, Chung-Hee’s daughter trailed behind with several they hadn’t.  As the two deposited the dishes on the table, the girl explained, “ _Appa_ [4] says it’s on the house.” 

Heero groaned and protested, “You can’t let him do that.” 

“You try arguing with him when he’s in a good mood,” she countered and flitted away before Heero could reply, leaving him flustered and silent. 

Then Duo murmured, “I say we pay double and make a run for it when we leave.” 

Heero turned to his companion and found his eyes full of mischief and conspiracy and something he couldn’t name.  He relaxed and nodded, accepting the plan. 

When the time came, they dropped a small mountain of cash and bolted out of the restaurant, occasionally stealing glances behind them to ensure Chung-Hee hadn’t run out after them.  Heero didn’t truly begin to relax until they reached Bryant Park.  Their strides slowed as they moved away from the street and wove their way through the Christmas Market.  Shoppers bustled stall to stall before dispersing into the night, their breath coming in puffs of white clouds in the cold. 

After a time, Duo broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them as they walked.  “What do you want to do now?” 

“We could go home if you’re tired,” Heero suggested, glancing up at the other man.  Duo shook his head so he offered an alternative.  “I know a place,” he began, hesitant, “but I haven’t been there in a while…” 

“Why not?” Duo asked. 

Heero shrugged, noncommittal.  “It’s small, so not many people know about it…or want to go.”  He thought of Jason’s disapproval and shook his head to dispel the toxic memories. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yes.  Quite a lot, actually.” 

“Let’s go then,” Duo said.  “Small, local, secret bar sounds pretty cool to be honest.” 

Heero nodded and turned north, fighting the nerves that threatened to divert him with every step they took. 

When they reached The Lighthouse, they hovered in the entryway while Duo took in the space before them.  A bar on the far end, the top buffed till it gleamed.  A cluster of patrons in the far corner.  Walls heavy with NYC paraphernalia.  Rainbow LED lights strung overhead.  Bartender MIA.  The dim room was as claustrophobic as it was intimate. 

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding about it being ‘small,’” Duo hissed, clearly stunned.  “How many people can fit in here?  Maybe…fifteen, standing room only?” 

Heero winced, feeling a knot form in his belly.  “About that, yes…” 

Duo shook his head in disbelief, but then a wide smile appeared on his face as his gaze bounded about the room.  “I love it,” he said, his voice leaving no room for doubt.  “Let’s grab a seat.” 

But before they could move from their position by the door, a call went out from a new voice, “The prodigal son returns!” 

From across the small space came Eve.  The drag queen sashayed rather than walked toward them, her stilettos clicking on the floor as she turned the bar into her personal catwalk.  Her makeup dramatic, her hair perfectly coiffed and curled. 

Heero thought she was a sight for sore eyes.  Eve had been the first to sense something was amiss with Jason and had done her best to take Heero under her wing.  She had turned The Lighthouse into somewhere he could run to—if ever, whenever he needed it—and had sought to build his second family out of her own. 

He was thus relieved when she drew him in for twin pecks on each of his cheeks.  “Where have you been?” she demanded when they parted.  “You have been _missed_ in these parts.”  She then turned her attention on Duo.  “And who is _this_?” 

“Eve, this is Duo—” 

“Wait.  _The_ Duo?” she gasped and leaned in to plant a kiss on each of Duo’s cheeks.  “You are _most_ welcome, my dear.  It’s a pleasure.”  She then hooked her arm through Duo’s and led them to the bar along the opposite wall. 

Duo chanced a glance over his shoulder at Heero, his eyes betraying his confusion and curiosity.  Heero could only offer a reassuring smile as Eve deposited the two of them down at the bar and began introductions for the benefit of the new addition.  Andrew the off-duty NYPD beat cop.  Thinh the aspiring doctor who was about to complete his residency.  Kane the quintessential starving artist.    

Heero turned to Miguel—the upstart fashion designer—who was presently serving himself a refill from behind the bar and asked, “Where’s Darius?” [5] 

“Ah, he went to pull some stuff up from storage,” the man answered, nodding his head to the other side of the room. 

Heero thanked him and tapped Duo’s shoulder.  “I’ll be right back,” he murmured and slid off his barstool.  Duo’s eyes asked him questions but he nodded silently, turning his attention fully on the others with a wide grin.  It was a defensive tactic Heero recognized.  He made a note to make this quick. 

But as he approached the STAFF ONLY door in the back, Darius emerged carrying a box full of bottles.  Heero waited until the bartender had set the box down before making his presence known.  “Hi Darius.” 

The man started and spun on his heel to face him.  “Heero!” he gasped, clutching his chest as he recovered from the surprise.  Taking a step toward him, he placed both of his hands flat against the polished bar top that separated them and gave him a once-over.  Heero let himself be studied and suppressed the shiver that raced up his back.  He covered the response by stepping forward and crossing his arms over the bar.  The last time he’d seen the other man it had been far more…intimate.  He flushed at the thought. 

As if reading his mind, Darius offered a reassuring smile.  “You look good.” 

“You too,” Heero acknowledged, nervously running a finger along the wood grain of the bar. 

They shared an uncertain silence for a moment until Darius spoke again, his words echoing Eve’s.  “We’ve missed you around here.  I’m glad you’re back.”  He glanced down the bar and nodded his head at the assembled group.  Heero followed his gaze and found Duo surrounded by a growing crowd of patrons.  It looked to him like the other man’s smiles were genuine now, but he couldn’t be sure with the distance.  “Friend of yours?” Darius asked. 

“Yes.” 

“More than a friend?” 

Heero hesitated.  “Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” 

Heero shrugged and looked away.  How they framed their relationship had yet to come up in conversation with Duo.  Under the parameters of The Experiment, they were friends first and agreed not to discuss the new dynamic within the family.  But what to call it…in the end, Heero settled on, “We’ll see where it goes.” 

At this, Darius leaned close over the bar, his dark eyes boring into him.  “Tell me this, Heero,” the bartender began.  “Tell me that he’s kind to you.  Tell me that he makes you happy.  Tell me he’s a good man, and I’ll stop worrying about you.” 

Heero took a breath to answer, but was cut off by a sudden burst of raucous laughter from the other end of the bar.  He found Eve and Duo holding court over the rest of his friends, the two of them sparring in animated gestures and peals of laughter.  Heero smiled. 

Darius chuckled, drawing Heero’s attention.  The man waved his hand as if to dispel his earlier questions.  “Say no more.  Let’s go check in on the lot of ‘em, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Point of order: LAM!Duo is short, slight, and usually rail thin. He’s never really been able to put on weight (despite his best efforts) and a childhood spent malnourished on L2 stunted his growth.
> 
> [2] Colonists have rallied for independence under different banners at different times. With growing frustrations with the ESUN leadership for their lack of action on self-determination for the last five years, a collective nationalism has taken root and colonists are displaying the flags and banners of past independence movements and separatist organizations more frequently.
> 
> [3] As a reminder to readers, L1 was built by the Pan-Asian Bloc which traces its roots to the Association for South East Asian Nations (ASEAN), the East Asian Summit (EAS), and to a lesser extent South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC). L2 was built by the Western Hemisphere Trade Organization (which included all of North and South America), L3 was a team effort between the Eurasian Union (successor to the CE era’s EU) and African Union. L4 was the product of the Alliance of Middle Eastern States, with heavy financial backing of the Winner family. L5 was built by the Chinese Federation to house what it viewed as political radicals.
> 
> [4] Appa 아빠 = Dad
> 
> [5] Reminder: Darius and Heero hooked up after Heero broke up with Jason. Darius was the rebound.


	2. Chapter 2

**JFK International Airport  
** **New York, New York  
** **205 December 21**  

Hilde loitered in arrivals, waiting for her fellow travelers.  When Duo had told her Trowa and Quatre were each coming in around the same time as her, she waved off his offer to meet them all at the airport.  She had been sure that they’d be fine on their own.  But jetlagged and unfamiliar with her new surroundings, Hilde was beginning to doubt her past self-confidence.  So she waited, and hoped Trowa and Quatre wouldn’t be delayed and force her to figure out her way into Manhattan on her own. 

But then she spotted a familiar face in the crowd and breathed a sigh of relief.  She threw an arm in the air and waved down Trowa Barton, who gave her that relaxed, roguish smile that made her heart flutter.  The man was too attractive for his own good in her opinion. 

When he reached her, they embraced like a collision, the force of it lifting Hilde off her feet (much to her delight).  He set her back down, the two of them laughing like long-lost friends, and asked her, “How are you?  How was the trip down?” 

“Flights were fine, if long,” she told him.  “Not sure what day it is or really where I am.  It’s all a little surreal.  Has it really been five years since I last laid eyes on you?  I think it might be.”  She stepped back and gave him a once-over.  He looked travel weary and somehow smug about it.  Stubble dusted his cheeks in shadow and his green eyes laughed at her while she sized him up. 

“Any sign of our third?” he asked, refocusing her attention on the actual matter at hand. 

Hilde shook her head.  “Not yet.” 

But Trowa was already grinning.  “Spoke too soon,” he said, his eyes on the crowd behind her.  “Six o’clock.”  Hilde spun to search the faces of the next wave of arrivals while Trowa muttered behind her, “Brunet today.” 

Quatre Winner almost reached them before she recognized him.  Brown hair artfully tousled, he was clad in cheap jeans and sneakers.  Nondescript and forgettable: just another twenty-something in JFK. 

Hilde launched herself into his arms.  Only after he caught her did she think maybe that had been a bit too forward. 

But Quatre laughed heartily and held her close.  “How are you?” he asked.  “It’s been _ages_.” 

Releasing her grip on him, Hilde stood once more on her own two feet.  “I hardly recognized you!” 

“I think that’s the idea,” Trowa intoned.  Hilde glanced back in time to catch the wink over her head at the other man.  “We should get out of here before someone gets wise,” Trowa added. 

“I agree,” Quatre answered with a nod, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping the screen.  “Someone is bound to be watching and will figure it out as soon as they realize my security detail is leaving without me.” 

“So, let’s get out of here,” Hilde declared and then added, “assuming one of you knows where to go.” 

“There’s apparently a service alert on the AirTrain,” Quatre told them as he read something on his phone, brow furrowed.  “Transit times into Manhattan look like they’re upwards of 90 minutes.” 

“We’ll take a car then.  Cost shouldn’t be too bad between the three of us,” Trowa said with a shrug and then laughed bitterly, “but it may still take us upward of 90 minutes to get to the apartment.” 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Hilde told them, hooking her arms through theirs as she had done to Heero and Duo dozens of times on L2.  They set off together to the taxi stand and climbed into one of the multitude waiting to shepherd jetsetters and holiday travelers into the New York City night. 

Once their cab merged onto I-678, Trowa managed to pull his phone from his back pocket and tap in an auto-dial shortcut on the keypad.  Enabling the speaker phone, he then passed the device to Hilde who held it up between the three of them. 

Duo answered, “Hey!” 

“We’re on our way,” Hilde told him, her eyes on the sea of tail lights ahead of them.  “Slowly.” 

“Awesome.  Which ‘we?’” 

Hilde hesitated, and answered vaguely, “All three of us.” 

There was a pause.  And then, incredulous, “Are all three of you piled into a cab?” 

Even their driver had to laugh at that.  Trowa answered for them, “We figured this would be decent practice for the next few days.  Space being a premium in the apartment and all.” 

Duo chuckled, ambient noise of someone working in the kitchen rising as he moved through the apartment.  “I’m convinced this is all just a convoluted experiment designed to see how quickly an intimate group will kill each other for living space.  Wufei probably set it all up for some class he’s taking on social engineering.” 

In the background, they heard Wufei’s bemused reply, “Well I’m not going to say I _didn’t_ consider that as a possibility…”


	3. Chapter 3

**New York, New York  
** **205 December 22-23**

**\--17:40--**

Duo sat cross-legged on the couch skimming through Heero’s expansive music collection.  Behind him, Hilde was helping Wufei in the kitchen while Quatre and Trowa sat at the dining table talking about the latter’s upcoming circus tour.  He eavesdropped as he scrolled through playlist after playlist, the conversations gradually becoming a comforting white noise. 

There was a brief commotion from the front door and Duo looked up to find Heero enter with a spectacled blonde… 

Wait. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered, setting Heero’s laptop aside and standing. 

Relena Darlian laughed, pulling the glasses from her eyes and slipping them into a pocket of her oversized sweater.  “Hi Duo,” she greeted him.  She hovered close to Heero as they moved into the living room.

She was taller than Duo remembered.  Curvier too, he realized as he watched Quatre and Trowa rose to greet her before he could shake off his own surprise.  She hugged them both.  Heero meanwhile moved quietly to join Duo by the couch.  “I didn’t know she was coming,” Duo whispered. 

Heero hesitated a beat before whispering back, “I hope it’s okay.” 

Duo rolled his eyes and gave him a wide, reassuring grin.  “Of _course_ it’s okay.  Jesus.” 

At that moment, Hilde emerged from the kitchen, her face a mask of confusion and curiosity.  When she laid eyes on Relena, she bounced about for a moment, giddy.  “Another girl!  _Finally!_   Welcome to the party – want a beer?” 

**  
\--19:00--**

Trowa watched the goings-on from a suitably safe distance, nursing a beer and occupying prime real estate at the kitchen table with Heero and Hilde.  Relena and Wufei had been engaged in some heated debate for the better part of an hour with no signs of stopping.  The rest of the apartment’s occupants had gone about their business of being merry with occasional glances over shoulders at the dueling pair as they would pass them, confusion evident. 

“What on earth are they arguing about?” Hilde asked from Trowa’s left as she popped a chip into her mouth from the bowl that sat between them. 

Duo just happened to be walking past them towards the kitchen at that moment and intoned, “Eh…when I swung by it was the institutional deficiencies inherent in timely intelligence dissemination to the ESUN on national disarmament practices.  I think.” 

“Festive,” Heero noted, smirking. 

“I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Duo hissed, hovering between them and the two subjects of conversation. 

“On the contrary,” Heero murmured back, “I didn’t think it would go this _well_.” 

“Duo keep walking,” Trowa instructed.  “You’re blocking my view.  I’ve never observed Wufei’s courtship rituals in action.” 

**  
\--20:30--**

“What do you _mean_ you’ve _never_ gone out?” Hilde sounded utterly scandalized.  She leaned forward in her shock, arms crossed underneath her on the kitchen table. 

Where she sat beside Heero, Relena shrugged, her fingers delicately spinning the empty beer bottle before her.  Heero thought she looked a bit sheepish about the admission.  “It’s difficult to stay below the radar most of the time,” she explained.  “But my time usually isn’t my own either, which complicates matters.” 

Hilde squinted at her, clearly still trapped in her disbelief.  Then – with quick, conspiratorial glance in Heero’s direction – she turned her attention to the rest of the group.  “Alright you lot,” she said, her voice carrying over the general din, “new mission parameters.  Get Relena drunk and dancing.”

“What?” the subject of the order asked, eyes wide. 

“Mission acknowledged,” Heero answered. 

“W-waitaminute—” 

“Someone figure out where we’re going,” Hilde barked, standing up from the table. 

“Already on it,” Wufei replied.  Heero looked over to find the man’s eyes glued on the phone in his hand.  Trowa leaned over to review the screen with him. 

“But…” the protest died on Relena’s lips and drew Heero’s attention back to the women sitting with him at the table.  “But I don’t have anything to wear,” Relena admitted quietly. 

Heero gave her once-over and determined that she was not in fact dressed for an all-nighter.  Turning to Hilde, he found her eyes dancing between the two of them.  “What are you thinking?” he asked. 

Hilde gave him a wicked grin.  “Think you got something to contribute to the wardrobe side quest?” 

He turned back to Relena, finding her flushed and flustered.  “I might,” he said, offering his hand to Relena with a subtle smile which he hoped was reassuring.  She took his hand with only a moment’s hesitation and they headed toward the hallway.  “Hilde, you too,” he called over his shoulder as they walked. 

From behind, he heard the childish glee erupt.  “Alright!  Dress up time!” 

The outburst broke the tension that had been building in Relena and she laughed, squeezing his hand in hers. 

**  
\--21:45--**

Relena had never seen L2 eyes before she met Duo.  With all her travels with her father throughout the colonies she had heard about them, but never seen them firsthand.  Little bare-footed hungry orphans, battle scarred mobile suit techs, strung-out drug addicts…all of them with hypnotic cat-like eyes.  Starbursts and the indescribable color of space, blue or purple depending on how they caught the light. 

Relena had supposed they’d be beautiful but sinister somehow, her Earth-born biases recognizing them as odd and inherently alien.  When she had finally had a chance to see them for herself, they belonged to a Gundam pilot called Death, and their swirling blue-violet depths spoke of doom. 

But now she sat diagonally from Duo at some bar which she’d already forgotten the name of, and she didn’t feel the same chills that had gone up her spine at that first meeting so long ago.  The indigo halo around his pupils spiked and shattered out into the outer blue and seemed to shift and fade in the dim interior of the bar.  They were quite beautiful.  The anger and pain was gone for a time, their places filled with something like contentment.  It made her smile. 

“See something you like?” he asked her, laughter bubbling in his voice while he gave her a sidelong glance. 

“Yeah,” she admitted.  He apparently hadn’t expected such a blunt answer, judging by the surprise that painted his face.  She clarified, “Your eyes are very honest.  They don’t tell your secrets, but they don’t go out of their way to hide anything either.  Not anymore, at least.  They don’t have to.” 

**  
\--00:20--**

“So what number is that?” Relena asked, pointing at the nearly empty glass next to Heero’s elbow. 

He eyed it suspiciously for a moment before finally determining, “That’s number…um…‘malfunctioning social filter.’” 

Hilde turned to Relena and said, “The one after it is ‘inappropriate come-ons.’” 

“Yeah but the space in between is ‘I can keep up with the band,’” Duo threw in, spinning himself into and back out of Heero’s arms, pulling the other man off toward the dance floor. 

Quatre chuckled and shook his head at the playful fluidity of the action, the way Heero wove his way through the crowd behind Duo.  It seemed to him that the two of them had entered their element on the dance floor, surrounded by strangers and the dark and the music. 

_Such an odd thing_ , he mused while he searched fruitlessly for the stoic boy that he had once known – child of the world’s pain and anger and father to its second chance.  Heero Yuy had become self-aware.  Quatre was envious of his confidence and wished he could let the music take him miles away.  As the band led the crowd down dark and sensual paths with carefully manipulated chords and steady drum beats, he watched Heero and Duo meld themselves into two halves of a whole and wished he had the same.  He chanced a furtive glance toward Trowa and found the other man engaged in some deep conversation with Wufei and Hilde, though how they heard anything over the bassline he didn’t know. 

There was movement off to his side as Relena leaned close to ask, “So how long have they been together?” 

The question took him aback and in his momentary confusion, he wasn’t sure who she was referring to.  As he turned to face her, he watched her eyes drift back to Duo and Heero and realized he hadn’t been the only one watching from afar.  Shaking his head, he leaned close and replied, dismissive, “They’re not.”  Her eyes met his gaze and he saw her skepticism.  He then added, “Personal space is an alien concept on L2 and dancing is just dancing.  Duo’s always been like this.  Heero’s grown accustomed to it just like the rest of us.” 

Relena nodded and turned to again watch the two men on the dance floor barely visible amongst the crowd.  The band crawled out of its languid chords back up to its driving beat and with them went the dancers.  Heero spun Duo away from the impossibly close embrace he had captured him moments before and Quatre watched them lose themselves in the beat once more.  Beside him, he heard Relena mutter, “You sure?” 

**  
\--02:00--**

The Crypt was a beast of a club.  A multi-story behemoth, Trowa had to tamp down the sudden spike of anxiety that appeared on their approach, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.  The building itself rumbled with the force of the music barely contained within its walls. 

Heero and Wufei had gone on point and made a beeline for the bouncer at the front door.  Upon catching sight of the two of them, the large man’s stern face split into a wide grin.  He had lifted Heero straight off his feet with the force of a monstrous hug and high-fived Wufei as the shorter man walked past.  The rest of them followed with words of thanks to the man as he resumed his sentry duty, and Trowa was left to wonder the backstory as they moved through the building. 

Inside, the club was dark floors, roaring music, and black lights.  Plumes of neon powder erupted over the dance floor on time with the DJ’s ministrations, the dancers streaked in the stuff.  Trowa chanced a glance at Relena and found her enraptured with it. 

Earlier in the evening, he and Wufei had worked up the group’s itinerary, catching bar specials and live sets throughout.  The Crypt was the closer, the finale of a night of debauchery.  Wufei had been rather insistent.  “She’s never been out,” he had told Trowa when he questioned the choice.  “She’s unlikely to have done anything fun just for the hell of it, rather than for some damn photo op.  We can at least give her that.” 

Trowa had at the time decided _not_ to remind Wufei that he’d spent a good few hours arguing with the very same woman he was now looking to entertain.  He had instead stayed silent while Wufei built the order of battle. 

_Hell of a way to finish_ , Trowa thought as they set up camp on the sidelines of the third floor’s dance hall.  Several of their group promptly disappeared into the throng, and Wufei headed to the closest bar to get the stragglers something to drink.  Trowa hung back with Relena, who was still transfixed on the crowd before them.  “Having fun?” he asked her.  She said nothing, but grinned ear-to-ear and nodded.  When Wufei returned, the three of them huddled close to better hear one another over the roar of the music. 

He lost track of time talking to the two of them.  Relena and Wufei were an equal match, he determined: who else in their little band would ever subject him to the intricacies of Western philosophy while intoxicated, after all.  The thought had him smirking to himself and scanning the dance floor. 

Before long, Heero emerged from the darkness, his face and chest spattered with neon dust.  That wasn’t all though.  “Looks like someone got friendly,” Trowa observed, gesturing to Heero’s hip before taking a long pull from the beer in his hand. 

The man twisted around to find a bright green hand print emblazoned on his left flank in iridescent dust. He groaned and tried to dust the print off, but only managed to spread the dust down the back of his thigh. 

“Last guy who did that left with fewer functioning joints than he arrived,” Wufei reminded him, obviously taking note of the more subdued response from his roommate. 

“This one should count himself lucky then,” Relena intoned, eyes wide at her friend. 

“She does,” Hilde stated proudly, sidling up beside Heero and wrapping her arms around his midsection.  She planted a dramatic kiss against the man’s shoulder and then slunk around him to take Relena’s hand.  “You have hovered far too long since our last dance, deary,” Hilde informed her, gently coaxing her away from the rest of the group and toward the dance floor.  “The night is no longer young!  Come on!” 

Relena cast a wary glance backward at the rest of them.  Trowa then saw her tighten her grip on Hilde’s hand and take a deep breath before she answered, “Let’s go.”  Hilde grinned up at her and promptly pivoted on her heel, leading her back into the fray of bright lights, heavy bass, and clouds of neon dust. 

**  
\--05:10--**

The night had left them all spent and starving…and now also covered head to toe in streaks of neon powder that stuck to their bodies like a second skin courtesy the hours spent dancing and drinking in The Crypt.  The hour was too late for another bar, but unanimously determined too early to go home, they opted to find a place to conquer their appetites before they collapsed. 

The 24-hour diner was brightly lit, garishly so compared to their evening out.  Two hours yet till sunrise and the city was getting its second wind.  It seemed appropriate to Wufei then that the wait staff was equal parts bleary-eyed all-nighters running down the end of their shift and over-caffeinated earlier risers. 

Their host took one look at their dust-streaked clothes and promptly escorted them to the back of the venue where they joined the rest of the diner’s party-going patrons.  The tables stacked with food and coffee, the diners all talking too loud due to hearing loss.  _We’ll fit right in_ , he thought as they pulled a couple tables together to fit the group of them. 

Wufei moved to take the seat next to Quatre before Trowa slipped forward and – with a knowing smile – left him the seat next to Relena.  He took a steadying breath and sat down, thankful Trowa said nothing aloud to draw attention to the arrangement.  Relena meanwhile seemed too engaged in conversation with Duo on her left to have noticed. 

They ordered mounds of food and several carafes of coffee, and when it all arrived several minutes later, it was bedlam as they each piled plates high.  As the dust settled, Wufei caught Relena eyeing the chocolate chip pancakes that had somehow landed between them.  Pointing at the plate, Wufei told her, “Each of those you eat earns you an extra hour of obscurity.” 

Relena locked eyes on him and he watched a playful smile spread across her lips as she slowly reached out and hooked a finger under the plate’s edge.  Inching it toward her, she asked, “Really?  How fascinating.  Can I hold you to that?” 

Wufei grinned back at her, but was unable to hold that steady gaze for too long.  Flushing, he turned away and took a long swallow of his coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

**New York, New York  
** **205 December 24**

Relena followed Narantsetseg into their shared suit in the Upper East, the other woman having arrived with the ESUN staff motorcade just a few minutes prior.  “How was the flight in?” she asked as she shut door shut behind her.  She tailed the other woman into the adjoining bedroom and took a seat in the armchair by the wall. 

“Awful,” the other woman replied with a groan as she heaved her suitcase onto the chest at the foot of her bed and beginning to unpack.  “But then, it’s always awful when you’re traveling commercial.  You?  How was your vacation?” 

Relena pursed her lips into a thin line.  “It was good.  My friends are doing well.  Met some new acquaintances.” 

The woman shot her a knowing glance over her shoulder.  “Get to enjoy the NYC nightlife without the press tailing you?” 

“Perhaps,” Relena replied, fighting a grin.  After a moment, she stood and moved toward the door.  “I’ll put some coffee on.  I picked up our gowns yesterday.  Yours is in your closet already.” 

“Thanks love.  I’ll be out in a bit.” 

Relena moved through the suite and into the small kitchenette, pulling down two coffee cups from the small cabinet overhead.  She filled the small coffee machine’s water reservoir and checked the auto-fed pod supply to ensure it had been restocked before pressing the ‘brew’ button.  She leaned back against the kitchenette’s bar and drummed her fingers against the countertop while she waited.  Her thoughts kept drifting backward in time to the previous day and the very long night that preceded it.  The catharsis of letting go for just a day was proving exceptionally difficult to shake and transitioning back into her official self felt like an unwieldy challenge. 

Narantstseg returned as the coffee machine beeped to alert them that their drinks were ready.  They each grabbed a cup as the older woman passed Relena her tablet.  “We got the attendee list.  Finally,” she explained.  “Should be the first thing up.” 

Relena turned the device on and began to skim the document that appeared.  It held all the names and titles of the usual cast of characters.  Political elites, business entrepreneurs, local talent.  She glared down at the tablet as if it was somehow at fault for her having to attend yet another one of these functions.  In her opinion, they all swirled around giving the older generation too much credit than they were worth while ignoring the work happening in the trenches.  At least she had Narantsetseg this time.  They could stand in the back and quietly judge from afar. 

The thought made her smile but when she flipped to the last page of the document, she drew up short.  “Preventers?” 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Narantsetseg nod.  “Yes, the President thought it appropriate given the ten-year anniversary of the ceasefire this week.” 

_A wise political move_ , Relena thought and began to read the names hoping that perhaps Sally had made the cut.  But then— 

_Mr. Wufei Zhang, Deputy Director, New York City Branch Office_  

“Sonuvabitch.” 

Narantsetseg snorted into her coffee.  “That’s a rather severe reply,” she said once she’d recovered. 

Relena flushed and looked up at her.  “Sorry – it’s just – I just met this man the other day and he said nothing about coming to the gala.” 

There was the briefest pause, and when Narantsetseg spoke next, the protective streak was on full display.  “Is that a problem?” 

“No, no definitely not,” Relena assured, her brain already spinning with sudden excitement.  She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon.  She had to prepare.  And then her thoughts turned to her gown and her optimism fell.  She glanced back toward her room, deflated.  The dress she’d picked was understated – a pale blue with classic lines and a modest neckline. 

Sensing her distress, Narantsetseg asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s just…I have to go shopping.  The dress I have won’t suffice for the evening any longer.” 

Relena watched a slow, predatory grin appear on the other woman’s face, her eyes sparkling.  “Than what would ‘suffice?’” 

Taking a deep breath and setting aside the tablet, Relena declared, “Narantsetseg, I’m going to war tonight.” 

The other woman laughed heartily and set aside her coffee, a new mission acquired.  “Then let’s go find you one that will let you raze cities to the ground and crush men’s souls.” 

*********  

Relena walked into the opulent banquet hall wearing a gown of stardust. [1]  Head high and shoulders back, she strode into the ballroom carrying all the power and rebellion of her generation.  Cameras flashed and diplomats greeted her with kind words and wayward eyes – the dress left little to the imagination and served as a reminder to those that knew her that little girl Darlian was long gone. 

But she wasn’t here for them, in truth.  Relena moved through the crowd with a grace and political poise artfully constructed, piece by exquisite piece, through years in the spotlight.  She slipped in and out of policy debates, familial gossip, and as many questions on her dress as her work.  As she navigated the masses, she searched for her actual target. 

She eventually found him on the second floor leaning against the balcony, observing the machinations of ESUN policy from afar.  As she approached, she recognized the way his eyes locked with hers: it was taking conscious effort not to look elsewhere.  She smiled sweetly at him.  “Agent Zhang.” 

“Ma’am,” came the clipped response. 

“You clean up nicely,” she told him.  And in truth he did, his tuxedo all clean lines and a slim cut. 

“You don’t look half bad yourself.” 

She felt herself bristle instinctively, years of etiquette training going into override at the…challenge?  Disdain?  _No, no…_ She knew better now and watched the muscles his jaw clench as he looked away, his eyes returning to the partygoers in the ballroom below.  _No, it’s an opening._   Forcing traditional decorum to the sidelines, she allowed herself a dry laugh.  “Good to know I’m not the only one that feels out of place,” she admitted, taking a furtive look around.  A few curious glances, but nothing too concerning. 

“You don’t _look_ out of place,” he murmured, his voice betraying his sincerity while his eyes still avoiding hers. 

_There it was_ , she thought.  The closest she’d get to a compliment in public.  It was more than enough.  “Thank you,” Relena told him, her words earnest, “but it took years of practice, often reluctant.  Besides, none of this pageantry can really compare to yesterday.” 

Wufei’s dark eyes looked up at that, considering the admission of her own discomfort but choosing not to engage.  Instead he said, “I imagine getting covered in neon powder is rather memorable.” 

“I was talking about the chocolate chip pancakes actually.” 

This earned her an incredulous laugh from Wufei as he shook his head and took a sip of champagne to avoid responding as he recovered.  She smiled back.  After a beat she moved to stand closer, joining his surveillance of the crowd, and asked, “So why would the Deputy Branch Director be avoiding the fray tonight?” 

At the question, he sobered.  “I was thinking.” 

“Of?” 

“The President made a statement condemning the protests in the colonies,” he replied.  “I had the…sick feeling that we’ve been here before.  We know how it ends.” 

Relena happened to agree with him, but heard herself say, “He only has a few days left.” 

“So we should consider it a success if he leaves without starting a war.  But who says the one coming in after him will be any better?” 

Her thoughts flashed to Michael Reuson and felt a glimmer of hope.  _Maybe, maybe if he can win…_ But she shook her head, trying another tack.  “Regardless of what the President may think personally, the statement itself was condemning the violence alone, not the right to organize, not the right to protest.” 

Wufei considered this a moment and said, “I could argue the ‘intent vs. semantics’ angle but we’ll leave that one alone for now.  At what point does the right to oppose the system which oppresses you become something illegal?  When does it change from an ethical requirement to resist to violence?  When you face a line of police in riot gear?  When you throw back a tear gas grenade that they threw first?  Does someone have to die first?” 

“Violence of any sort should be discouraged,” Relena replied.  “People should be allowed and protected to say what they think – even when it’s bigoted or ethically wrong – but they also should accept the consequences of those statements.  You impose punitive measures on a colonial economy you should expect resistance.  You burn cars and vandalize businesses, you should expect jail time.” 

“So…physical or financial injury.  To one or the other side.” 

She sensed a trap.  Hesitantly, she answered, “Yes.” 

He thought about this for a moment before asking, “What about mental injury?” 

This gave her pause. “How do you mean?” 

“ _Select ESUN officials_ argue that the L5 diaspora within their national borders pose the single greatest threat to national stability since the war,” he explained, avoiding naming names in the present company.  “They say we’re the remnants of an extremist group that blew up their own people to make a point.  We had a chance at home, and we wasted it.  We don’t get another.” 

Relena noted the use of ‘we.’  They were no longer speaking in theoreticals.  She ground her teeth and said another silent prayer that the upcoming election would turn the tide away from repeating history.  “The President and his ilk who think along such lines are jingoistic idiots.” 

Wufei smirked at her, an acknowledgement of the solidarity.  “I happen to agree with you, but there are a lot of people out there – including several in this room – who feel the same way he does.” 

“A government cracks down on dissent, which leads to violence and abuse, which instigates more dissent, which leads to greater crackdowns,” Relena mused.  “How would you recommend the ESUN break the cycle?”  When Wufei hesitated, she prodded. “Come now, Agent Zhang. A thoughtful man like yourself must have some proposals.  You would not stand there and rail against the system without offering solutions. So, what would you do?  If you had the resources and political clout to change the situation on the ground?” 

“You’re talking thousands of people.  Most of them undocumented.” 

“Which is easier to help than a few million, believe it or not.” 

He was quiet for a time, but then answered, “Amnesty.” 

“How so?” 

“We’re…proud,” Wufei told her, his gaze inward as the gears in his head turned.  “Charity is a loss of face and is therefore unacceptable. But it’s unreliable anyway because it’s pulled by the fickle political climate of the present times.  Many of these people consider themselves criminals of some kind: blockade runners, undesirables and exiles, separatists and rebels.  That’s reason enough for most national governments to cut off assistance and throw people into camps under the veil of ‘security’ and ‘sovereignty.’  The war’s been over for a decade but with no home to go back to, there’s no closure.  These people need forgiveness for their crimes, be they real or socially contrived, and they need acceptance.  So long as they remain on the outskirts of society, nothing will change.” 

“That would take significant grassroots outreach,” Relena noted. 

“And a lot of political buy-in from the ESUN,” Wufei added. 

Relena slipped into silence as gears started turning in her head.  Eventually she shook herself loose of her thoughts to find Wufei’s eyes on her again, watching her ruminations.  She offered him a conspiratorial smile, which he returned with his own. 

But then she watched him close himself off and straighten where he stood, his eyes watching something behind her.  Relena turned and found Narantsetseg walking toward them.  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re heading out.” 

Relena felt the disappointment rise within her chest, and she was half-tempted to wave the woman off so that she could stay longer.  But decorum was returning and she well aware of the eyes on the trio of them.  “Yes, okay,” she sighed.  “I’ll be there in just a moment.”  Narantsetseg withdrew with a nod and a curious glance in Wufei’s direction before heading toward the stairs. 

Turning back to Wufei, Relena withdrew a small card from her clutch.  “The next time you want a verbal sparring session, Agent Zhang,” she said, holding the card out to him, “call me.” 

He took the card with palpable hesitation, looking down at the cleanly printed information before raising his eyes again to meet hers, curious and uncertain.  She smiled at him in a way she hoped would reassure and turned away. 

She joined Narantsetseg at the staircase and they moved through the crowd as a unit, threading their way through clusters of politicians and business elites and other such movers and shakers of the world.  Relena resisted the urge to look back up at the balcony, but only just barely.  They escaped the crowd through the front doors and burst out into the winter air before climbing into the waiting sedan at the entryway. 

“So was that him?” Narantsetseg asked the car doors had shut them in together. 

“Who?” 

“The man you were talking to all evening.  Was he the one you came to do battle with?” 

Relena laughed, feeling her cheeks begin to burn.  “Perhaps.” 

“No ‘perhaps’s.  It was _definitely_ him,” the other woman countered with certainty.  “Who is he?” 

“A Preventer.” 

“An idealist.” 

Relena shook her head.  “ _We_ are the idealists.  We’re working global disarmament, remember?  Preventers deal in the real world.  They’re far more pragmatic.” 

“You like him.” 

She bit her lip and turned her eyes to the window to watch the city streets go by from behind tinted windows.  “He intrigues me.”  Narantsetseg was silent then, and Relena let the quiet settle between them for a moment.  After a time, she asked, “Do you happen to have the contact information for the Special Representative on L5 Diaspora Affairs?” 

“I do,” Narantsetseg replied, already pulling out her phone.  “But he may be somewhere in the Federation at present.”

 

“That would be good if that’s the case.  His day’s just getting started…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Relena’s dress (courtesy the lovely [maevemauvaise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maevemauvaise/)) can be found [here](http://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/155310127379/maevemauvaise-lifeaftermeteor-so-i-had-to)


	5. Chapter 5

**Apartment #718**  
**New York, New York  
** **205 December 25**

“Read ‘em and weep, boys,” Hilde crowed, laying down her cards to reveal a straight flush and betting on the unlikelihood of either of them being able to beat her. 

She bet right.  “Dammit,” Quatre cursed with a grimace, relinquishing his full house with frustration. 

Wufei meanwhile tossed in his cards without bothering to reveal them.  It seemed to Hilde the man was distracted by more than just his losses.  She filed the observation away in the back of her mind as she pulled the pot to her. 

“How’d you do?” Trowa asked from the other end of the table.  The man had learned the hard way not to challenge her at poker the _last time_ they had all been together.  Hilde thought it amusing that he apparently had not seen fit to warn his friends about her innate ability to separate them from the contents of their wallets. 

“Enough to buy a cute dress and earrings to match, courtesy the very kind investments of Winner and Zhang,” she replied, grinning. 

“At least it’s going to a good cause,” Quatre sighed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Uptown  
** **New York, New York  
** **205 December 25**  

Heero and Relena sat in the executive lounge in her hotel.  She had cleared him with security as a school friend, but his Preventers credentials had helped when he ran into some particularly dedicated bodyguards.  Concerns ameliorated and a private corner secured in the back away from prying eyes, the two of them drank a pair of espressos and watched the other patrons drift in and out.  It was surreal sitting with her in public sans disguise, stories above the city.  The shift from a greasy diner breakfast to posh heights within 48 hours was enough to make Heero’s head spin. 

“You didn’t tell me your roommate was going to be at the gala yesterday,” Relena said, sounding perturbed.  “A little heads-up would have been appreciated.” 

“I had assumed he would have said something to you, given all the time you spent arguing with each other,” Heero told her, having to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the face she made.  There were echoes of the girl she once was, irritated by being out maneuvered.  “I wasn’t going,” he continued, “so it didn’t much matter to me.” 

“What are you on about, Heero?  What’s your angle?” she asked him, her voice betraying growing uncertainty.  

Relena was searching for a deeper motivation than, ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time,’ her suspicion perhaps driven by how much fun she had had.  She’d lived too long in a world where there were always consequences, Heero decided.  He sighed and leaned toward her over the table, channeling all his honesty into his answer.  “We do this every five years—or at least we plan to.  I wanted you to be a part of it.  I thought you would get along with everyone.  Wufei included.” 

“That’s all?” she asked. 

“That’s all,” he affirmed.  He watched her gaze turn inward, her hands disappearing into her lap while her gaze turned inward.  “Unless of course that’s _not_ all…” 

“He’s interesting,” she mused more to herself than him. 

_‘Interesting’ is the least of it_.   “He’s a lot like you,” Heero told her cautiously.  “Intellectual.  Principled.  Argumentative.” 

Her eyes met his at the last and he could tell she recognized the bait and refrained from taking it.  “Single,” she added to his list, blunt. 

“Wufei’s in a long-term relationship with his work,” Heero answered, “something else he has in common with you.” 

Relena pressed her lips into a thin line.  “I gave him my card,” she told him.  This surprised Heero.  Relena’s business card was as good as gold in diplomatic circles, that much he knew.  But then she asked him, “You don’t think it was too forward, do you?” 

_‘Forward,’_ he noted, _not ‘unwise.’_   “Did it feel like a good idea at the time?”  She nodded, so he continued, “Then it was a good decision.  For what it’s worth, he didn’t mention it when he got home.  Which means he recognized it for what it was—that you trust him.” 

Her gaze softened at his, a shy smile gracing her lips.  “I do.  As strange as that might sound.” 

“Not strange,” Heero assured, finally turning his attention back to his coffee.  “His integrity gives him extra points in the dating scene.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
** **205 December 26**  

Trowa sat out on the apartment fire escape, feeling his body heat slowly leave him even bundled in layers as he was.  He watched Heero and Wufei’s neighbors through their windows and played silent witness to a heated argument here, a rekindled romance there.  Across the street and two floors down on the right was a student who was as sleep deprived as he was over-caffeinated judging by the number of times he disappeared from view before returning to his books.  Three floors up and off to the left was a house party still going strong.  In the corner room, a cellist was still perfecting her art.  And all around them was the dim, pervasive glow of the neon lights, sounds, smells of New York City still very much alive at 0300. 

He smiled to himself, comfortable with his insomnia in this city that never sleeps. 

The window behind that led back into the warmth of the apartment slid open, startling him.  Quatre ducked his head out into the night air. 

“Thought you’d be awake,” he muttered.  “Do you mind if I join you?” 

Trowa shook his head.  “Of course not,” he replied and watched Quatre climb out onto the fire escape, quietly shutting the window behind him, wrapped in a blanket he had stolen from somewhere inside.  “Can’t sleep?” he asked, knowing it was not uncommon for the other man to also have bouts of insomnia. 

Quatre shook his head.  “Duo kept kicking me in the shins.  Even asleep he’s running.” 

Trowa snorted at that and shook his head but said nothing.  It was unsurprising to him that Duo was a restless sleeper.  He glanced back through the window and into the dark apartment, squinting against the faint glare of their reflections against the glass.  He watched as Duo pushed himself upright on the fold-out bed where he had collapsed from exhaustion earlier in the evening with Hilde and Quatre.  At first, Trowa assumed the man had woken himself up from whatever dreams were chasing him, but then he noticed the swaying, the slow, clumsy extraction from the sheets, and the blind drifting through the apartment.  Trowa cursed under his breath, “Shit.” 

“What is it?” Quatre asked him, but Trowa was already moving to the window.  Sliding it open and swinging into the apartment, he padded after Duo, Quatre at his heels. 

Eyes closed tight, Duo meandered around the corner and ricocheted off the walls like a drunkard as he moved down the hall toward Heero and Wufei’s bedrooms.  Trowa and Quatre kept their distance…until the sleepwalker walked straight into Heero’s closed door, his forehead striking the wood with surprising force. 

Trowa hissed and darted forward, wrapping an arm around the shorter man to stabilize him and carefully sliding a hand between Duo’s forehead and the door. 

“Should we wake him?” Quatre asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper from where he hovered just off to the side. 

“No,” Trowa whispered back.  Leaning close, he hushed the mumbled protests as they arose.  “It’s okay,” he murmured against Duo’s temple as he reached around the smaller man to turn the doorknob, “Let’s get you to bed.” 

The door swung open to reveal a disheveled Heero Yuy sitting upright in bed, bleary-eyed in the dim light from the street below that filtered through his drawn blinds.  When his gaze met Trowa’s, confusion faded and was replaced by understanding as he put pieces together.  He waved at Trowa, signaling his acceptance and Trowa wondered if he didn’t look mildly amused as he did so. 

With a gentle push, Trowa released the still sleeping Duo into the room and watched him walk straight to the bed.  “Come here,” Heero murmured as gently took Duo’s hand in his and guided the sleepwalker up to join him, straightening the sheets over the new addition.  Duo settled quickly then, muttering something unintelligible, his face already buried in Heero’s recently vacated pillow. 

Trowa turned his eyes back to Heero and raised his hand, palm up.  _Okay?_ To this, Heero responded with a dismissive wave and a nod falling back into his bed. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Times Square  
** **New York, New York  
** **205 December 26**  

Hanun Agbaria, [1] head of Mr. Quatre Winner’s security detail, sat in the expansive suite in a Midtown hotel.  They had paid dearly for the floor which overlooked Times Square, and had converted this particular room into a makeshift command center.  Computer screens ran constant video feeds of the floor and while strategically located microphones picked up conversations elsewhere in the building. 

Since the attack in AC 203 which had nearly killed Mr. Barton, the Maganacs detailed to the winner family in L4 had increased the size and caliber of the traveling security team.  There was no more contracting out responsibilities of Master Winner’s life, no more short cuts that _should_ work, _should_ be fine. 

Hanun had risen through the Corps’ ranks both on-colony and off, personal security, crowd control, peacekeeping missions all keeping him busy for the last decade.  He was honored to have been promoted further in the shake-up.  Many considered his present position a prestigious – if mostly ceremonial – posting, perhaps with some occasional minor excitement such as disarming a would-be assassin. 

But Hanun had worked for Quatre Winner before and knew the man was just as good at disarming them as his security team. 

The young man also didn’t like to make it easy on them.  Such as this trip.  Quatre had insisted on the smallest detail possible as the trip was solely personal.  But upon landing in New York, he’d ducked into a lounge and emerged a new person, intentionally leaving his detail behind to throw off any undesired attention.  They all knew the ruse would only work for a few short minutes, just enough for Mr. Winner to find his friends and escape under the cover of civilian life.  Hanun had agreed to the plan on the condition that the young man would check in throughout his time off the grid. 

As it happened…Hanun glanced at his watch and counted down the seconds.  His phone rang right on schedule.  “Yes, sir. Status?” 

“Hanun,” the young Mr. Winner began.  In the background, Hanun could hear snatches of conversation between other young men.  He knew who they were, but couldn’t yet discern which voice belonged to whom.  “I just wanted to check in while I had the chance before it got too late.  I’m herding cats.” 

“I beg to differ, Winner,” Hanun heard one man retort, “you’re herding mildly intoxicated _humans_ , not cats.” 

“Speak for yourself,” another countered.  “One might on occasion like consider oneself a leopard.” 

“…are you _high_?”  The voice was rife with incredulous indignity, even amid the pervading laughter. 

“How do you think it would be?  Being a leopard?” a third voice asked, sounding surprisingly calm amidst the rest, and yet Hanun could still hear the smile hidden between the words. 

“Probably pretty awesome.” 

The bodyguard heard Quatre chuckle under his breath on the other end and smiled.  “It sounds like you have your hands full, sir.  I’ll notify the team that you’ve checked in.” 

“Thank you, Hanun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Reminder: readers first met Hanun on L4 [when Trowa climbed into the Winner Mansion through a window](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5766829/chapters/13290529).


	9. Chapter 9

**Apartment #718**  
**New York, New York  
** **205 December 27**

“See, I’ll just hammer you guys with messages and assume you’ll reply whenever,” Duo was saying as they sat around the kitchen table, plates scraped clean from breakfast, each of them still nursing their coffees.  “ _If_ you reply,” he added, with a sharp look at Hilde.  She waved him off dismissively looking as though she was still fighting off sleep. 

“Heero meanwhile at least waits until you acknowledge him,” Trowa told them, “which I personally appreciate.  Sometimes this is a matter of hours.  Or days.  Doesn’t seem to matter.  ‘Trowa.’  And then radio silence.  Until, ‘Yes Heero?’  And then a _wall_ of text—” 

“Or a series of messages in impossibly rapid succession,” Quatre interjected. 

“—as if he had the whole thing queued, waiting _just_ for the acknowledgement.” 

Wufei had to laugh, shaking his head.  “This may be true, but has he sent you photos yet?” 

“No!” Duo replied, sounding scandalized.  Heero took a deep breath and threw back the rest of his coffee, clearly bracing for impact. 

“A few weeks back he sent me a message, reading only, ‘I think a bird flew through our window,’” Wufei began.  “I’m in a meeting so this doesn’t compute.  Why would he think that, not realizing how late it had gotten.  I send back something like, ‘Why would you say that?’ and I should’ve damn well known better.  Almost immediately he replies, ‘Well, if the forensics team taught me anything’ and a photo of our living room framed as broken window, glass all over the floor, and a dead pigeon in the middle of our floor.  But he had taken the time to line it up so that it flowed window—glass—bird.  

“I send back some reply akin to saying I’d talk to the landlord and that he has better things to do than photographing our living room like a crime scene.  Not even thirty minutes go by and I get another picture message, this time without text.  It’s the same shot, but the bird is gone and in its place is a masking tape outline of where it fell.  And throughout the room—presumably where all the glass had been—are little yellow cards with numbers on them.” 

In the laughter that erupted around the table, Wufei shook his head and sighed, “My roommate.” 

“And subordinate!” Heero reminded him.


	10. Chapter 10

**New York, New York  
** **205 December 28**

Late in the morning, Duo emerged from Heero’s room looking more clean and pressed than Quatre was accustomed.  Gone were the ripped jeans and fading band shirts, replaced by a simple button-down and slacks.  From his seat at the table, Quatre watched the other man pull his hair back into a small ponytail and accept a cup of coffee from Trowa.  “Where are you off to looking so nice?” he asked, confusion coloring his words. 

Duo hesitated for a moment before replying, “Um...Mass?” 

Utter disbelief rolled through the rest of them, acknowledgement and amusement meeting Duo’s revelation.  “Since when are you a practicing Catholic,” Hilde asked, “and why did I not know about this?” 

Quatre shot a sidelong glance toward Heero and Wufei, both of whom who seemed more interested in their breakfast than the exchange.  He deduced this meant they had been aware of this development for some time but had not seen fit to mention it to the others.  Quatre racked his brain and couldn’t remember hearing about it either.  

“A couple years now, actually,” Duo answered Hilde. 

“You don’t strike me as the dogmatic type,” Trowa mused over his coffee. 

“Oh, he’s not,” Wufei affirmed before Duo could reply. 

“He’s the only Buddhist in the entire Diocese,” Heero added, sparking laughter from the man in question as he fled the apartment before they could badger him more. 

Shortly before midday, mobiles buzzed throughout the apartment with a group message from Duo.  “Can we go get cheeseburgers?  I’m starving and communion wafers don’t really cut it.” 

They converged a short time later, commandeering a corner of the designated restaurant by pushing plastic and metal tables together.  The meal was cheap and greasy and positively wonderful. 

Quatre missed this, this closeness, he realized as he watched the lot of them talk.  Too often he felt so damn isolated stuck behind a wall of notoriety and status.  It was a rare blessing to be able to ‘hang out’ like a normal person. 

But as his attention flitted between them all, he found himself drawn to Duo and Heero.  Relena had gotten the gears turning in his head, but try as he might, he hadn’t been able to discern anything different.  Duo had always been one for physical contact and tactile displays of affection.  Heero’s stand-offish nature had slowly faded into memory, a transition aided by exposure and age.  As much as he wanted to assure himself Relena’s assessment was flawed due to her lack of exposure, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. 

He _hated_ that feeling. 

“How are you getting anything out of yours?” Hilde asked suddenly, waving her ice cream shake in front of herself as she eyed Heero with suspicion.  The man had yet to come up for air.  “Mine’s still frozen.  It would double as building materials at this point I think.” 

Quatre saw his chance and took it.  Calm and poised, he observed, “Well clearly this just means his blow job game is stronger than yours.”  This promptly caused Heero to flush a violent red and come off his straw coughing.  This only made Quatre grin.  “Ah, minus two points for choking.” 

“I still swallowed,” Heero told him, sounding bitter.  Clutching the straw with his teeth, he snarled, “I should get those damn points back.” 

“Oh Christ…” Duo groaned as he buried his face in his hands in clear mortification. 

“You should stop teasing,” Trowa chastised him from where he sat beside Duo. “You’re going to give him an aneurysm.” 

Playful, Quatre grinned back at him and filed the reactions away in the back of his mind.  _Interesting, but inconclusive._


	11. Chapter 11

**Apartment #718**  
**New York, New York  
** **205 December 30**

Duo had been growing impatient the further they got into the holiday.  The secret he and Heero had been holding between them was beginning to eat at him.  Waking up next to the other man a few days prior after having wandered into Heero’s room sometime during the night had only shaken his resolve to keep his mouth shut.  He desperately needed some advice. 

So, this evening he waited for an opportunity and pounced when it presented itself.  Sidling up to Trowa while the rest of the group was otherwise preoccupied with one thing or another, he asked, “Can I talk to you?” 

Trowa quirked an eyebrow at the request.  “Of course,” he replied but when Duo hesitated, he suggested, “fire escape?”

The two of them headed to the window that led outside, Duo grabbing a blanket en route, and one after another they climbed out onto the metal ledge.  Duo fought the chill by wrapping the blanket tightly around his shoulders while Trowa took up a position in the opposite corner, seemingly unaffected by the winter air. 

“So what did you want to talk about?” Trowa asked. 

“I need some advice,” Duo muttered. 

“On?” 

“Heero.” 

Trowa chuckled, his laughter edging toward incredulous.  “I think you’re the best positioned on understanding Heero’s idiosyncrasies.” 

A knot started to form in Duo’s belly at the words, his chest going tight.  He worried his lower lip tween his teeth and looked away, down several stories to the street below.  “Can you keep a secret?” 

There was a pause.  And then, “If I need to.  What’s this about?” 

Duo turned his attention back to the other man and found him curious and concerned in equal measure.  It was almost funny.  Almost.  “Heero and I…we’re trying this…thing.” He struggled with the words.  “An experiment.  To see if we can make things work with each other rather than someone else.” 

There was a beat as Trowa connected the dots.  “Jesus, you two are dating?” 

Duo expelled a frustrated sigh.  “I guess.” 

“What do you mean you ‘guess?’” 

“It doesn’t feel like dating.” 

Trowa considered this.  “What do you mean?” 

“It’s like nothing has changed,” Duo clarified.  “It’s like we’re still just friends.” 

“In my experience, that’s usually a good thing,” Trowa told him, sounding amused.  “Be patient.  You don’t actually have to jump his bones now.” 

The knot in Duo’s stomach tightened.  Quietly he asked, “What if I don’t want to?” 

“You don’t want to sleep with him?” Duo shook his head.  “Have you told Heero that?” Duo shook his head a second time.  “Why the hell not?” 

“Because I keep thinking, ‘Maybe now.  Maybe tomorrow.  Maybe after this phone call.  Maybe next month,’” the words tumbled out of him in a wave.  “It’s not just Heero,” he murmured, “It’s anyone.  Everyone.  And I don’t…I don’t want him to think he’s done something wrong because he hasn’t.  And I know…I know I should stop this before it goes too far, but I…” 

“But you like him,” Trowa concluded for him when Duo couldn’t finish his sentence.  They shared a moment of silence and then Trowa asked, “Who else knows about this?  Your apathy toward sex, I mean.” 

“I told Hilde when she visited in Jakarta.” 

“What did she say?” 

“She fed me some line about just needing to find ‘the one.’”  Duo drew some comfort in the derisive snort that came from the other man.  “She meant well,” he added, “but it hasn’t exactly been helpful.” 

They lapsed into silence then for a time, each left to their own thoughts.  Duo shivered as a gust of wind blew through the street, the fire escape offering no shelter from New York’s winter.  His fingers were beginning to go numb while his heart sank in his chest.  He had hoped for solace in talking to Trowa, reassurance that this was somehow normal, that he was overreacting.  But with each passing moment, his dread grew. 

And then Trowa spoke, gentle and thoughtful.  “What if…what if this is just how you’re wired?” 

This had not been something Duo expected to hear.  He squinted over at the other man, uncertain.  “What do you mean?” 

Trowa remained quietly thoughtful as the idea matured further in his head.  “In all the infinite ways a human being is put together to seek out the things it needs or wants – be it through genetics or socialization or personal experiences – who’s to say this isn’t normal?  Or at least _your_ normal?”

The choice of words was a familiar one, bringing with them a fading image of a patient psychologist, the scent of leather, and faint hopes.  Duo clenched his teeth against the memory and tightened the blanket around his shoulders.  Refocusing on Trowa, who was still looking out over the city, he prompted “Go on.” 

“Well…” Trowa began, his breath making white clouds in the cold air between them.  He shifted where he stood and seemed to regather his thoughts, starting over.  “So, the way I see it…the world needs to maintain stability to continue to function.  There’s a constant state of balance, counterbalance, rebalance, etcetera.  So, if the world can produce someone like Wufei – who’s only interested in women – it will produce someone like Heero – who only has eyes for men.  Likewise, if it can produce someone like me – who has never once given much of a damn how my partners identify – then, if the pattern holds, it will also produce someone who isn’t remotely interested in anyone.  There’s a word for that, you know.  It’s called ‘asexual.’  It’s the default setting for easily millions of people throughout the Earth Sphere.  

“The more important part – the one you’re actually warring with yourself over – is what you’re going to do with this part of you if in fact it _is_ your normal.”  At this, Trowa turned to level his unflinching eyes on him and Duo struggled to hold that gaze.  “Because if it’s normal, then you’re not broken, which means there’s nothing to fix.  And if there’s nothing to fix, then what the hell do you tell Heero.” 

Duo grimaced and turned away.  His chest hurt like he’d taken a blow.  He forced himself to ease up on his clenched jaw and worried his lower lip between his teeth instead.  He berated himself silently, tucked into a corner of the fire escape as he was.  He was an idiot to have thought this conversation would have gone any other way than validate what he’d already suspected. 

But then, from the other side of the fire escape, Trowa murmured, “Can I…dare to give you some advice?” 

Duo looked up at the hesitance that preceded the question and found the other man’s gaze distant.  “Yes,” he answered, his own voice hoarse. 

“Trust and honesty and truth go both ways – for yourself and for your partner.  Relationships don’t work without them.  But that sick feeling you’ve got in your belly right now…I’ve felt that too.  It lies.  It feeds on your fears.  It isn’t the truth. 

“Truth is what you feel when you’re together and you kick all that self-doubt to the curb for five minutes.  It’s the fact that he can get you laughing in a sea of people on the dance floor.  The fact that you sleepwalk into his bed at night.  The fact that he told you nothing would have to change between you for this – whatever this is – to be a possibility.” 

“He said I was first,” Duo whispered, more to himself than the other man. 

“And I recommend you believe him,” Trowa urged.  “Heero is not one to make hollow promises or bullshit proclamations.  He’s earnest to a fault.” 

Duo choked back a laugh and felt the corners of his lips twitch upward in a tired smile.  He let silence settle between them as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling the weight that had settled over his chest begin to lift. 

The window behind them slid open with a harsh snap, making each of them jump.  Wufei stuck his head and shoulders outside into night air and glared at first Trowa and then Duo.  “If you two stay out here any longer, you are going to get hypothermia.” 

Duo glanced over at Trowa who sat patiently waiting for a signal.  Duo kept his gaze steady as he nodded in the affirmative. 

Thankfully, Trowa read it for what it was – conversation over.  To Wufei, he said, “No…I think we’re on our way in.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Times Square**  
**New York, New York  
** **206 January 1**

Duo leaned heavily on the balcony railing overlooking Times Square.  The New Year’s celebrations had yet to wind themselves down though midnight had long since passed.  _And the band played on_ , he thought as his eyes drifted to the center stage, the musicians riding out the second wind. 

Quatre had arranged for them all to relocate to a Midtown hotel earlier in the day, his security team already in place and wiping out an entire floor overlooking Times Square.  They spent a good portion of the morning gathering supplies of the sustenance and substance variety before hopping on the subway.  They had then breezed through the hotel lobby already packed with building security and revelers and road the elevators skyward.  A series of conjoined suites awaited them with balconies overlooking the street below. 

The group had then protested vehemently when Quatre refused their financial contributions.  “Consider this my down payment for next time,” he had told them. 

“Next time?” Heero had asked.

“I want to host in 210,” Quatre told them, beaming. 

“You’re volunteering?” Trowa had asked, sounding a bit surprised by the offer. 

“You mean we don’t have to bulldoze you with Robert’s Rules of Order?” Wufei added, glaring at Trowa.[1] 

Quatre had laughed off the queries, waving a hand before him as if to dispel the lingering uncertainty.  “No, of course not.  I’d love to have you all.  And if we get to crash some fancy parties all the better.” 

This had clearly sold Hilde on the idea.  Excitedly, she had clapped her hands together with a manic grin, “I _love_ crashing fancy parties!  I can bank my winnings from beating the crap out of you at Poker and get a swanky dress!” 

“Well, if you’re going to host…you clearly need a roommate,” Trowa intoned nodding his head in Heero’s direction. 

“No.  Absolutely not,” came the abrupt answer. 

“You mean you don’t want to come live with me in L4?” Quatre asked, feigning heartbreak. 

Heero sighed.  “Quatre, I love you.  But I am not getting roped into co-hosting this thing the third time in the row.” 

They had spent the night with the heat up and the windows open, watching a slew of Earth and colonial-born bands play the night away while the mob below danced and counted down the hours…and then minutes…and then seconds to the new year.  AC 206 rolled in with aplomb and potential. 

Hours later, he lingered on the balcony while the others had retreated into the warmth of the suite behind him.  Their laughter rolled over him, promising love and family even now.  Ten years on.  Ten years since the end of the war.  Ten years of experience and knowledge and growth and change. 

There was movement behind him and Duo didn’t bother to look back.  Heero joined him at the balcony, mirroring his posture, his arms crossing beneath him on the metal railing.  “Don’t be morose,” the man chided quietly.  “Today’s a good day.” 

Duo smiled.  “Not morose,” he countered.  “Just thinking.” 

“Of?” 

_Of everything_ , he thought.  Instead, he asked, “Did you ever think we’d see it?  A decade after, I mean.” 

“No.” 

“Me neither.  I always assumed I’d go down in flames, all twisted metal and wreckage.” 

There was a beat, and then, “Well it’s not as if there’s not still time for that.” 

Duo snorted and turned to look at the man beside him, finding him mentally tallying his options.  He shook his head with a dark laugh and turned to look back down at the jubilant crowd below.  He wondered how many were colonial, how many were Earth-born.  For now at least they were all just people.  He smiled.  “Happy New Year, Heero,” he murmured. 

“Happy New Year, Duo,” the other man whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Reminder: this is exactly how [Wufei got volunteered to host in AC 205.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5786614/chapters/13337002)


	13. Chapter 13

**New York, New York  
** **206 January 1**  

The morning came creeping in, pulling Trowa up from the abyss of dreamless sleep.  His insomnia had finally released its hold around 0500, giving him the chance to experience in real-time the shift from pleasant buzz to dehydrated ache.  Now he lay awake where he’d collapsed on the suite’s couch, willing the dull throb in his head away.  There was movement elsewhere in the room, the sound of someone brewing coffee.  Quatre and Hilde would leave later today, he recalled.  The day before they had discussed it and decided to go straight from the Manhattan hotel to the airport while the rest of the group would relocate back to Heero and Wufei’s apartment before the late check-out clock ran out. 

There was gentle pressure on his shoulder and he reopened his eyes, blinking up at Quatre.  “Coffee?” the other man asked as he offered Trowa a mug from the suite’s kitchenette.  The dye in his hair was quickly fading from the rich brown he’d arrived with to an ashen hue. 

“Thanks,” Trowa replied, shifting to sit upright and took the cup.  Quatre then sat down beside him. 

The two of them watched the rest of the apartment slowly come alive.  Wufei appeared before too long looking freshly showered.  He greeted them with a nod, poured himself a coffee, and then walked past them out onto the balcony where he curled up on one of the chairs outside.  Duo entered the common area then, looking somewhat green.  He ignored the coffee in favor of downing two large glasses of water in one go.  He then shuffled back to the bedroom he’d shared with Heero.  Just as he disappeared, Hilde entered with her duffel bag.  She tossed it onto the floor by the kitchen island and grabbed herself a cup of coffee before joining Trowa and Quatre in the living area. 

“When do we need to leave?” she asked, taking a sip from the mug cradled between her hands. 

“Same time as they do.  Around two,” Quatre answered. 

“Why’s Wufei outside?” she then queried, casting curious eyes out at the man on the balcony. 

“Probably recharging his social batteries,” Trowa replied.  “He’ll be in once suitably caffeinated.” 

The three of them not so much as killed time as they put it affectionately to rest with quiet conversation.  Wufei did eventually return to join them and about an hour later Duo re-entered looking only moderately better.  Wufei relinquished his seat in one of the lounge chairs to the new addition and moved into the kitchen to cobble together breakfast with their dwindling supplies. 

Trowa eyed Duo for a moment before asking, “You okay?” 

Duo’s smile was half-hearted at best.  “I will be.” 

“I didn’t think you drank that much,” Hilde said, watching him over the rim of her cup. 

“I think it’s in aggregate,” Duo answered, scrubbing at his face with his hands.  “My liver is throwing in the towel after 10 days of festivities.  I’ll feel better after I eat something.  Not to worry.” 

“Heero?” Quatre asked. 

“Shower,” came the quick reply. 

Heero joined them not long after and they shared a simple breakfast of eggs and toast.  It seemed to Trowa that the others felt as he did: unwilling to let the reunion end, unwilling to say goodbye quite yet. 

But the time did eventually come as they inched toward mid-afternoon.  Heartfelt farewells exchanged in the lobby and two climbed into a waiting cab while the rest of them headed out on foot for the nearest subway station.  _And then there were four_. 

As the stragglers crossed the threshold into Heero and Wufei’s apartment, Trowa felt an unfamiliar sense of ‘home.’  It was strange, having grown accustomed to the nomad’s life.  But it blossomed somewhere in his chest all the same, promising safety and familiarity and family. 

He turned to Duo to ask if he felt the same and found the younger man frowning down at the screen of his phone.  “What is it?” Trowa asked. 

“Not sure,” Duo answered.  He kicked off his shoes and walked into the apartment.  He stopped by the television and began flipping through channels with the set’s remote as the rest of the group filtered in around him, curiosity thick.  He stopped searching when he came to a news network that was reporting on the ESUN’s Presidential Election, the results announced earlier in the day.  They were replaying video of the swearing-in ceremony, the text scroll at the bottom announcing, _JUNIOR SENATOR MICHAEL REUSON NEXT ESUN PRESIDENT_. 

“Oh shit,” Duo muttered under his breath. 

“What?” Trowa and Heero asked in unison. 

Duo took a deep breath to answer but was cut off when the phone in his hand began to ring.  He brought the mobile up to look at the caller ID and smirked before turning the screen to face them.  “Should I pick up?” he asked them. 

On the screen flashed _MICHAEL REUSON_.  In his stunned state, Trowa could only watch Heero shove the device back toward Duo while Wufei hissed, “Answer the damn phone.” 

Duo tapped a green button on the screen and bringing the phone up to his ear.  “Happy New Year, Mr. President.  I think congratulations are in order.”  There was a beat while Duo worried his lower lip between his teeth as he listened to the man on the other end.  “Yeah, I can talk,” he said and walked away toward the bedrooms.  Trowa watched him turn the corner down the hall and heard a door close. 

They stood in the living area entirely confused about what to do with themselves in the silence that followed Duo’s departure.  “What do you think that was about?” Wufei asked them.  Trowa could only shake his head, unsure how to reply.  Heero meanwhile crossed to the couch and curled up in the distant corner, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

Duo reappeared before too long, his eyes glued to his phone which now lay silent against his palm. 

“Well?” Wufei prompted when the other man didn’t immediately surrender information. 

Duo raised his eyes, but it seemed to Trowa he was still far away, lost in thought.  “I just got a job on the President’s personal staff.”  The announcement was met with excitement and congratulations from the other three.  The commotion appeared to help him focus, his gaze clearing.  “I have to change my flights,” he added.  “They need me in Brussels on the third.  And I have to tell my boss…” 

They waved him off and once more Duo disappeared around the corner.  Left once more in the living room, the three of them dispelled their own shock at the announcement.  Wufei shook his head muttering to himself as he walked into the kitchen, a wide grin plastered on his face.  Trowa knew how he felt.  And then, from the corner of his eye, he watched Heero’s face fall. 

_Odd,_ Trowa thought and moved to join the other man on the couch.  “Crazy, isn’t it?” Heero said nothing but nodded.  Trowa continued, “Something wrong?” 

“No,” Heero was quick to assert.  But then he fidgeted under Trowa’s scrutiny and said, “But hours of operation will be very different in the President’s office.” 

“You worried about him?” 

“Duo can handle anything they throw at him,” Heero answered, looking away. 

They sat in silence for a moment while Trowa considered the possibilities and eventually decided to take a chance.  He glanced over his shoulder and – keeping his voice down – said, “He’ll go back to Brussels.  But who says you can’t go with him?” 

At this, Heero’s eyes met his with startling clarity.  Confusion and a hint of fear.  _Ah ha…_   Trowa stood and said, “Just something to think about,” as he walked away to join Wufei in the kitchen.


	14. Chapter 14

**Apartment #718**  
**New York, New York  
** **206 January 2**

Duo stood surrounded by the remains of destruction, stones and rebar punctuating the landscape.  The sky above and the air that surrounded him was gray with dust.  Glass crunched underfoot as he walked through the debris searching for…something.  Someone?  A person was screaming somewhere unseen.  A boy.  A boy was screaming.  And as he stood amidst the rubble, the sound got louder and louder and— 

Duo launched himself upright in bed.  “Fuck!” he cursed, breathless.  His heart pounded in his ribs as his mind spun into consciousness.  Disoriented, he struggled to rid himself of the cobwebs of his own dream and climbed over top of Heero as if he could serve as a human shield against the night terror. 

“Heero, Heero, it’s okay—” he told the other man just as Trowa and Wufei burst into the room armed with a switchblade and what looked in the dim light like a sword.  Duo emphatically waved them away and turned his attention back to the distraught man beneath him.  Heero’s screams had by now choked themselves off into sobs that wracked his body. 

Duo settled his weight more fully into his knees which were braced on either side of the other man’s body and let his hands come up to caress Heero’s head and shoulders.  “Heero, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, trying desperately to soothe the lingering horrors away.  “Bad one, huh?” he murmured and leaned forward to press his lips close to Heero’s ear.  “You’re alive.  You’re safe.  It’s okay.  It’s okay…” He repeated the words over and over hoping they would take root. 

He then hooked his arms under Heero’s chest and began to shift his weight back toward his side of the bed, coaxing, “Come on.  Come on,” as he fell backwards, pulling Heero with him.  The man put up no resistance and in fact rolled further onto his right side, curled against Duo’s body.  He hid his eyes in the crook of Duo’s neck while his hand clutched at the fabric of Duo’s shirt. 

Pressed together like mismatched jigsaw puzzles, Duo could feel Heero beginning to hyperventilate.  He ran his free hand down the man’s ribcage, knowing Heero wouldn’t feel anything beyond it. [1]  “Hey.  Hey, breathe,” Duo urged, pressing his cheek against the crown of Heero’s head.  “In for five, out for five. [2]  Come on.” 

Slowly…painfully slowly…Heero’s breathing slowed.  They lay in the dark in silence together for what felt like a small eternity and Duo knew any outside observer would think Heero had fallen back to sleep.  Duo also knew better.  So he waited. 

Eventually Heero spoke, his words barely above a whisper.  “I never told you about my dreams.” 

“I never asked,” Duo replied.  “I didn’t think it was right to.  We all have our demons.” 

Heero seemed to consider this for a time, his eyelashes fluttering against Duo’s neck.  “There are three,” he said at last, “that are bad.  Sometimes I dream I’m back in Wing’s cockpit and everything – all of this – was just a possibility, one of millions that Zero wanted to show me.  That the war is still happening.  Sometimes I dream about before the war, about my first real mission.  I was so relieved to be out of the labs again…and I got overconfident.  People died.  Innocent people.  And it was all my fault.”  His voice broke on the last and he was quiet for a time.  Duo tightened his arms where they wrapped around the other man and Heero seemed to draw strength from it.  He continued, “Tonight though…tonight I dreamt about the _machine_. 

“They brought it in as part of my ‘re-training’ after I failed the mission they gave me.  I didn’t know what it was at first or what it did.  I found out though.  I found out that it took everything out of my head and replaced it with static.  Made me numb.  Made it so I couldn’t _feel_ anything.  I’d resist at first, but…but after a while…I didn’t fight anymore. 

“So now I dream about it.  And each time I fight, and sometimes…sometimes I can break free of the restraints and I run and run and run.”  The shuddering quality had returned to Heero’s voice has he struggled with the words.  Duo felt Heero squeezed his eyes shut against his skin as he tightened his grip on Duo’s shirt.  The tears were back. “But sometimes…sometimes I can’t.  And they strap me down.  And they turn the machine on.” 

“J’s dead, Heero,” Duo told him, his own voice hoarse with emotion.  Even as he said it, he knew it didn’t matter.  Facts were worthless in the subconscious.  But then Heero surprised him. 

“It wasn’t just J,” he said.  “There was a team.  They’re still out there.”  In Duo’s arms, Heero started to tremble.  “What if they find me?  What if they take me back?” 

“No one is going to take you back,” Duo asserted.  Anger blossomed in his belly.  “No one is going to get to you.  No one would dare try.  And even if they did, they would never get to you because they’d have to get through six of the baddest motherfuckers in the Sphere.”  He smirked, unseen by Heero, as he thought about their band of miscreants.  “And between you and me,” Duo added, lightening his tone, “your princess is the scariest one of the lot.” 

His effort was rewarded as Heero choked on a laugh, but it still held an uncertain quality to it that worried him.  Even so, Heero loosened his grip on him enough to allow Duo to slide down the bed and level his own body out with the other man’s so that they faced each other.  Heero kept his eyes closed.  Reaching out, he took Heero’s face in his hands and ran his thumbs over the other man’s cheekbones to wipe away the residual tear tracks. 

“Heero, look at me,” he urged, his voice gentle, coaxing.  Heero humored him, his eyes meeting Duo’s in the darkness.  _God, you’re terrified_ , Duo thought as he stared back into those blue depths _._   The realization brought back that spark of vengeance that steeled his resolve.  “ _No one_ is going to get to you.  _No one_ is going to take you away, take you back there.  I’m not going to let them get anywhere close to you.  I promise.  I am _never_ going to let anyone hurt you.  Okay?” 

Heero hesitated for a second and then nodded, closing his eyes once more as Duo pulled him close to kiss him.  When they parted, Duo held Heero close murmuring words of consolation over and over until the man in his arms slipped back into the abyss of sleep.  He continued to hold him as he slipped into his own dark thoughts that he knew objectively were unhealthy regressions into something he had once been.  Blood and death and destruction, but no target to be had. 

After a time, he pulled away to find Heero’s face calm, lips parted.  _REM sleep acquired_ , Duo thought as he recognized the other man’s ‘tell.’  Painfully slowly, he extracted his arm from underneath Heero and slid out of the bed.  His throat felt tight and raw and he needed to get a handle on the dark thing in his head if he was ever to get _himself_ to sleep again.  He strode silent as a ghost from the bedroom and down the hall toward the main living area. 

But as Duo rounded the corner into the dark kitchen and nearly jumped out of his skin.  “Jesus.  Christ,” he hissed, faced with the shadowy figures of Trowa and Wufei hovering in the back of the dark kitchen.  “The hell are you two doing still up?” he hissed, struggling to get his heart rate back to normal.  “And why are you sitting in the fucking dark?” 

“How is he?” Trowa asked by way of answer from where he leaned up against the wall.  Wufei was perched on the countertop across from him, his left leg crossed over his right at the knee, a deceptively relaxed pose considering the way the evening was going. 

Duo sighed and walked into the dark room opening the cupboard over the sink to pull down a glass and filling it with water from the faucet.  “He’ll be okay now I think.  I got him back to sleep,” he told them, taking a swallow from the glass. 

“Did we trigger something?” Wufei asked.  “With all of us here for so long.” 

Duo wanted to deny it, to reassure them that it wasn’t that at all…but the words wouldn’t come.  So instead, he said, “I dunno man, maybe.”  Setting the glass of water down on the counter beside him, he brought his hands up to scrub at his eyes. 

“Are _you_ alright?” 

Duo blinked his eyes open to meet Trowa’s steady gaze, the other man’s question hovering between them a moment longer before Duo finally answered, “Yeah.  I’m fine.  I just…”  He looked away and shook his head.  “I used to be really good at seeing these things coming.  Knew all his tells, always woke him up before it got real bad.”  He leaned heavily against the sink and curled his fingers over the edge, his knuckles going white.  “It makes me angry.” 

“What, that you couldn’t stop a night terror?”  Wufei’s voice betrayed his disbelief. 

“That he has them at all,” Duo countered with clenched teeth.   _Batteries are running low_.  He knew his fatigue and frustration were showing.  “The rest of us volunteered for this, ya know?  One reason or another.  On some level we knew what we were in for.  J picked Heero up off the street.  An eight-year-old doesn’t know what a ‘Gundam’ is, but they know the alternative is starving in the back alleys of some torn up colony.” 

The three of them shared the reflective silence that followed Duo’s revelation.  He spent the time that stretched between them to pull himself together. 

In the end, it was Trowa who spoke first.  “What do you want us to do?  Tomorrow I mean.” 

Duo considered his answer carefully.  Finally, he said only, “He’ll be pretty raw in the morning.” 

“We’ll make ourselves scarce then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Reminder for readers: Heero has severe burns that span his back (and there are patches on the backs of his legs) from when he detonated Wing. 
> 
> [2] This practice is called Equal Breathing or _Sama Vritti_ for yoga practitioners. It helps decrease anxiety/stress and increase focus. For those with stronger lungs or more experienced practitioners, you can get around 6-8 seconds per inhale/exhale.


	15. Chapter 15

**Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
** **206 January 2**  

Heero woke to an empty bed and warm light drifting in from behind the blinds at his window.  He lay still for a moment, listening to his heartbeat and concentrating on the steady rise and fall of his own chest as he breathed.  He fisted the sheets in his hands, feeling the cotton twist against his fingers.  _You’re alive.  You’re safe.  It’s okay._   He repeated the words like a mantra in his head until they were free of the static that threatened to envelop them with distorted echoes.  Slowly, slowly, he sat upright and slid his legs over the edge of the bed.  He planted his feet and took several steadying breaths before standing and walking out of the room. 

The apartment was quiet, an oddity given the last week and a half.  He padded barefoot down the hall and rounded the corner to find the apartment mostly empty as well. 

Duo sat on the couch nursing a cup of what Heero assumed was coffee while he skimmed through something on his phone.  After a moment, he glanced up to find Heero hovering in the entryway.  “Hey,” he said. 

Heero’s lips parted to answer but no words came.  He closed his mouth again and looked around the apartment, reaffirming that they were in fact alone. 

“The others went out,” Duo said by way of explanation, drawing Heero’s attention back to him. 

Another moment of shared silence drifted between them feeling oppressive.  Heero walked forward to escape it and joined Duo on the couch.  He curled into himself, his feet tucking in underneath him.  But then Duo muttered, “Come here,” and he was drawn down onto his right side, his head coming to rest on Duo’s thighs.  A hand came up to run thin fingers through Heero’s tousled hair. 

The touch soothed him and Heero felt himself begin to drift in and out of the fog of his mind, unable to shake the malaise.  After a time, he heard himself ask, “Why did you tell Trowa about us?” 

The fingers in his hair stilled.  After a moment, Duo moved his hand to Heero’s shoulder, an anchor to the present.  Then he said, “I needed some advice.” 

“Why didn’t you come to me?” 

“I needed some _objective_ advice,” Duo clarified, subdued laughter in his words.  “It’s okay,” he murmured, the hand at Heero’s shoulder rubbing concentric circles of reassurance into his skin.  

Heero took a deep breath and sighed, unable to dispel the lingering lethargy that had seeped into his bones.  Again, he drifted.  He shifted to curl a hand over Duo’s leg, his fingers hooking behind the other man’s knee.  “He told me I should go back with you.  To Brussels.”  Duo’s hand stilled once more, feeling heavy where it rested against Heero’s shoulder.  “I…I don’t think I can.  Not yet,” Heero continued.  The words felt hollow on his tongue and yet he ached when he said them.  “This is my home.  For now.  I have friends here…” 

“I know.  It’s okay,” Duo told him and then added, “I like your friends.”  He resumed his affectionate ministrations, lulling Heero away from his fearful thoughts.  Eventually, he said, “You can go back to sleep you know.  If you’re still tired.” 

“What if the others come back and see us?”  Heero asked. 

“I don’t care,” came the prompt reply.  Heero believed him and, closing his eyes, slid back into a deep sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**JFK International Airport  
** **New York, New York  
** **206 January 3**  

Trowa and Duo were the last to leave.  Wufei was yet again stuck in a meeting intended for their absent Branch Chief, and so Heero accompanied them to the airport. 

The three of them spent the trip out talking about Duo’s new job and speculating on Quatre’s volunteering to host the next reunion.  Both had come as surprise to Trowa…topped only by Duo’s revelation of ‘The Experiment.’  He had subsequently tried to spot signs of deeper intimacy between Duo and Heero which he would have previously brushed off and had come up empty-handed.  They hid it well.  No one—as far as he could tell—was the wiser. 

But as they approached security, Heero stopped short and said, “You won’t tell the others then?”  Trowa’s face must have betrayed his surprise and confusion because Heero clarified, “I know Duo told you.  About us.  Can you… _will_ you agree not to tell them?” 

Trowa would have laughed if Heero didn’t look so damned concerned.  “Out of the five of us, who do you think is the best at keeping secrets?”  He paused and then jabbed a thumb at Duo.  “Certainly not this one.” 

Duo winced, chastised, and scuffed his boot at the tile underfoot.  “Yeah…” 

Turning from Duo, Trowa assured once more, “Secret’s safe.  The way I see it, it’s no one’s business but your own.”  Taking the shorter man’s hand in his own, he drew him into a tight embrace.  He felt Heero relax against him and when they parted, the man looked relieved. 

Trowa took a half-step backward and prodded Duo’s shoulder.  “I’ll see you on the other side of security,” he told him and with some final parting words, he headed to the checkpoint. 

He had had every intention of leaving the exchange at that and doing his best to forget the whole thing…but he couldn’t help one final glance backward.  Hardly a shred of space between them, the kiss looked as one would hope a lover’s kiss would.  Effortlessly passionate and yet heavy-laden with unspoken promises and longing. 

His heart ached at the sight.


End file.
